


waiting rooms

by lovetodanceandshout



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holidays, Hospitals, M/M, PTSD, chris is struggling, i am projecting, james is the best boyfriend to exist, kevin price is a dumbass, turn it off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28131756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetodanceandshout/pseuds/lovetodanceandshout
Summary: Chris Thomas hated the holidays. Since he was in the tenth grade, the time immediately following Thanksgiving and lasting through New Years’ was always the hardest time of the year for him. He could remember clearly how the Monday after Thanksgiving was the first day his older sister and closest friend had gone into the hospital. He couldn’t remember having a good Christmas ever again after that.
Relationships: Elder "Connor" McKinley & Elder Thomas, Elder "Connor" McKinley/Kevin Price, Elder Church/Elder Thomas (Book of Mormon Musical)
Kudos: 7
Collections: 12 Days of Book of Mormon (2020)





	waiting rooms

**Author's Note:**

> day 4 of 12DaysofBOM!
> 
> line prompt: "one normal christmas, that's all i wanted."

Chris Thomas hated the holidays. Since he was in the tenth grade, the time immediately following Thanksgiving and lasting through New Years’ was always the hardest time of the year for him. He could remember clearly how the Monday after Thanksgiving was the first day his older sister and closest friend had gone into the hospital. He couldn’t remember having a good Christmas ever again after that.

Things were better in Uganda, surprisingly enough. Perhaps it was because he was far from where his sister’s death had taken place, or perhaps it was the newfound family (and boyfriend) he had gained in Africa. It wasn’t perfect, and it definitely wasn’t normal. He still woke up every night during the holiday season, not because of a hell dream, but because he simply _couldn’t sleep_ , and he broke down crying on more than one occasion during November, December, and January, but it was still the happiest he could recall himself being on Christmas since he was in ninth grade.

And now? Now it was his first Christmas back in the United States, and he was feeling surprisingly optimistic. He and James had flown to Ann Arbor, Michigan to spend the week with Kevin and Connor, who were living there while they attended the University of Michigan to study biology and theatre respectively. Chris was thrilled at the idea of a Christmas with just his closest friends in a little apartment, even if it meant he and James were sleeping on an uncomfortable pullout sofa. Arnold and Naba were absent from the holiday, spending it with Mafala and the rest of their friends from Uganda, but they had plans to visit around the new year and Chris couldn’t wait. 

Christmas day found the four friends sitting around the tree in the McPriceley living room, opening the few gifts they had been able to afford for one another on their college student wages. Everything seemed perfect and peaceful until Kevin, who had been on a cooking kick, decided to test out the new knives he had received from his boyfriend.

“Fuck! Ow!” Kevin’s voice could be heard from the kitchen. And in moments Connor was on his feet sprinting to the kitchen. Chris could hear Connor’s own shocked exclamations as James jumped into action, sprinting to the kitchen before returning to Chris, his face pale as a sheet,

“Kevin sliced his finger pretty badly. I’m gonna drive him and Connor to the ER, do you wanna come?”

“Uh- Oh- sure.” Chris nodded, not thinking as he stood and grabbed his coat. Once he was properly bundled up, he grabbed Kevin and Connor’s coats and ran into the kitchen. Connor, still panicking, put his coat on before helping Kevin with his (and doing his best to avoid getting blood on the jacket). Soon, they were in Connor’s old Nissan, going at the top of the speed limit towards the Emergency Room.

It was only when they were all heading inside that Chris realized what a terrible idea this was. He hated hospitals and emergency rooms. Ever since his sister… well, he tended to avoid them when he could. He didn’t even like going to the doctor for his annual appointments. He found himself clutching James’ hand impossibly tightly as they walked in. His boyfriend gave him a concerned look, but he just shook his head and pressed on until they were sitting in the waiting room. 

He managed to keep it together until Kevin and Connor went back for Kevin’s treatment, but as soon as they disappeared through the doors, it all hit him at once. Memories of hospital waiting rooms were always associated with bad news, the telltale sounds around him that made it clear where he was, the sterile scent that always seemed to linger in the hallways. All memories associated with the worst year of his life. He couldn’t help it, and he began to cry. First quiet sniffling, then loud sobs that tore through his body and made it difficult to breathe. 

He was acutely aware of James wrapping his arms around him and whispering comforting words into his ear (“it’s okay, baby, I’m right here,”), but he couldn’t think clearly anymore. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t… he just _couldn’t_.

His tears eventually slowed, and he looked around the waiting room with bloodshot eyes as he processed that _this_ was his Christmas.

“This… is a disaster,” he murmured, prompting James to look down at him in concern.

“Kevin’s gonna be okay, Chris,” he assured him, “and then we can get out of here.”

Chris didn’t hear James, however, and simply stared into space absentmindedly. “One normal Christmas,” he scoffed, “that’s all I wanted.” He looked up at James, tears welling up in his eyes, “why am I so fucked up that I can’t even celebrate a fucking holiday?”

“Chris,” James frowned, “you’re not fucked up. You’ve been through a lot, it makes sense that this,” he gestured around at their surroundings, “would be overwhelming for you.”

“I guess.” Chris wiped at his eyes as he noticed Connor and Kevin (who had a colorful bandage on his finger) making their way over to them. “I think,” he took a deep breath, “I need to see a therapist when we get home.”

James nodded thoughtfully, rubbing Chris’ arm. “Okay,” he said softly, “we can do that.”

~*~

A few weeks later, Chris had his first appointment with a psychiatrist. She was a nice woman and very to-the-point during their meeting. Her questions prompted Chris to think of issues he hadn’t even realized he was having, ranging from his diet to his sleep schedule. He ended up leaving the appointment with a referral for a sleep study, a new prescription, and a list of diagnoses. 

“I’m formally diagnosing you with severe depression, anxiety, panic, and PTSD,” his doctor had said. “The prescription will address the depression, and we can think about adding something else once your body has adjusted to this. You should look into seeing a cognitive behavioral therapist, as well as a talk therapist.”

“O-Okay,” he could feel himself shaking slightly as he handed over his credit card to pay for the appointment, “thank you for speaking with me.”

He left the appointment feeling slightly numb. It was a relief, in a way, to finally have a name for what he had been experiencing. To know that his reaction to the Emergency Room was PTSD and not just an overreaction. It also left him afraid. Afraid of what the future had in store for him. He knew that he’d be okay. He was addressing the problem, and he wasn’t alone. He had James, of course. Then there was Connor and the rest of the gang from their mission. The most surprising support system he’d found was in his parents.

His parents had been kind enough to help him afford therapy and medications while he was in college. He’d tried to handle it on his own at first, but as soon as his mother had caught wind of what he was going through, she had insisted on paying. Losing one of her children had ultimately left her determined to ensure that her remaining one led a happy, safe, healthy life. So with the support of his family, friends, boyfriend, and therapist, Chris was able to get more of a handle on his mental health.

~*~

“Hey, Connor, where do you guys keep the wine glasses?”

“Uh… we just use paper cups.”

“You _what_.” Chris gaped at his best friend as they stood together in Kevin and Connor’s cramped kitchen. 

“We don’t have any wine glasses or champagne flutes or anything, so we just use paper cups.”

“You and Kevin make me homophobic,” Chris commented as he pulled the aforementioned paper cups out of the pantry, filling three of them with champagne and one with sparkling cider before picking up two of them.

“I’ve literally _heard_ you and James, you’re one to talk.”

Chris pointed an accusatory finger at Connor, nearly dropping one of the cups as he did so. “You didn’t sleep in our room for the last three months we were in Uganda.”

Connor flipped Chris off before pushing open the door and leading the way into the living room, where James and Kevin sat expectantly. Chris handed James his cider as he sat down, curling up close to his fiancé as he did so. He could feel James’ arm wrapping around him and a kiss being pressed to his temple.

“How are you doing?” The question came as a soft murmur, too quiet for their friends to hear, and Chris grinned as he turned to plant a kiss on James’ mouth. 

“Much better than last year, if that’s what you’re asking.”

James grinned at that, and Chris felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. He was vaguely aware of Kevin cackling at something Connor had said in the background, and of the telltale sound of a FaceTime call being made to Arnold and Naba, but at the moment, he and James were the only people in the world.

“Merry Christmas, Chris.”

“Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

“Third time's the charm, huh? You got your normal Christmas.”

“Nah,” Chris shook his head, “this isn’t normal. Normal’s boring. _This_ is perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!  
> chris' struggles and experiences with ptsd are entirely taken from my own life, down to the link to hospitals. i noticed the similarities between his verse in turn it off and my own life and rolled with it.  
> and as always, you can find all of my social media [here!](https://eldermckinley.carrd.co/)  
> 


End file.
